


Switch

by ayesakara



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Food Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayesakara/pseuds/ayesakara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin learns to communicate with Brian on a new level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sev_4_blogathon in July 2007. I'm not particularly a porny type of writer and I'm especially not a PWP fan. But this was a fantasy scene that had been playing inside my head for well over a year. It was time to put it down on the screen.

The fantasy, as it existed inside your head, was rekindled on your last trip to Pittsburgh.

Leather of the softest quality. Soft yet sturdy, pliant yet immovable. Long limbs straining against dark sheets, strong wrists, beautiful ankles. Sculpted thighs. All bound in sweet defiance.

You didn’t remember why you’d bought the restraints, that you’d conveniently forgotten back home on that trip, in the first place. But that night as you’d lain against Brian, a strange feeling had come to you and crept under your skin with a disquieting urgency. You didn’t know if it was the taste of his skin under your tongue, or the warmth of his breath on your face, or the silky feel of his long legs entwined with your own. All you remembered was that there you were, lying with your head on his chest while he slept, tracing patterns on his skin with a lone finger—around his nipples, between the dip of his chest, up his long arching neck, along his broad shoulders—his skin soft over solid muscles, as you’d joined the lines of each pore on his skin with the next, until your right hand had wrapped around his wrist. You remembered leaning forward to press your lips to his throat, inhaling in his scent, remembered hearing him sigh in his sleep as you’d reached out with your left hand to ensnare his other wrist as well.

And that was when that stray thought had hit you. About what was missing. About how hot he’d look. Jesus. How absofuckinglutely beautiful and breathtakingly gorgeous he’d be. Like a nebulous gust of air both hot and cold raising the goose bumps on your limbs, the thought had curled through the pathway of your suddenly alert brain, and you’d felt your cock awaken as your fingers had tightened around Brian’s wrists. He’d stirred awake to your bare teeth teasing his adam’s apple, as your tongue had lapped at the salty taste of his sweat.

"Wha???" he’d started only to be stopped by your mouth clamping over his, your tongue diving in between his parting lips as you’d kissed him like a famished man, your veins suddenly zinging with an aching need you’d never felt before. Within seconds, he was wide awake, in all parts of his anatomy, and responding with equal enthusiasm. "Haven’t had enough of me, Sunshine?" he’d chuckled, as he’d kissed your neck and bucked against your groin, pushing his right knee between your thighs enticingly.

You’d had to let go of his wrists, albeit regretfully, but then you’d refocused on his grinning face. "Never enough!" you’d growled happily as your hands had wound around his waist and you’d peppered his face with hungry kisses. "It’s time for you to fuck me again."

With a throaty laugh, he’d grabbed your ass, rolled you on your back, and proceeded to do exactly that.

That was five weeks ago on your last trip to Pittsburgh.

This was now.

The day after your first solo show of your three-and-a-half years old New York-based career as a not-so-starving artist. Not that you hadn’t done time as a starving artist for the first couple of years of your exile either. But it was true that things had been much easier lately with better gigs and opportunities coming your way—and as last night had proven, your years of hard work had finally resulted in your first ever solo show at a prestigious gallery on the 57th. The occasion had been of such paramount importance that your entire family, blood and otherwise –with a few minor exceptions, that is– had landed in the city yesterday as a show of support to you. Brian had arrived last evening and was going to stay here the whole week. You couldn’t wait to fucking get your hands on him when you could. Hopefully alone and uninterrupted for a couple of days.

Despite your freaking out over everything, the buzz the pre-show promotion had generated had been more than positive, with your agent and the gallery’s name doing their work, and six of your paintings getting sold on the first night. The crowd had been large and mingling among them and talking to the few media people strategically invited by your agent, you’d been kept occupied the whole night. So much so that by the time the last of the crowds had left, it was after ten in the night, and you were famished and literally dead on your feet with exhaustion.

You didn’t remember when Brian hoarded you into the rental limousine after everyone was through with dinner at Sfoglia. You didn’t remember when he brought you back home. The last memory you had was of your head hitting the soft pillow as Brian had settled in next to you and the next thing you knew you were waking up in your bedroom at twelve at noon the next day.

"What the fuck happened?" You blinked your way out of unconsciousness as you sat up on your bed and looked around.

Brian looked up from the chair he was sitting on across from the bed and raised a brow at you. "You conked out, that’s what happened." His lips twitched with amusement. "I guess you were really, really tired after all the hustling you did for selling your art," he drawled, smirk firmly in place. He was wearing an open-collared shirt and soft-looking trousers, his feet bare, his hair still wet from the shower. His laptop was on his knees and a steaming coffee mug was on the small table next to the chair and he appeared to be working on what you figured was yet another presentation for some client.

You looked at the bottom drawer of the dresser next to the door—the secret hiding place of your brand new kinks—looked back at Brian as he shifted on the chair as his fingers hovered over the computer—your eyes lingering on the long expanse of his bare throat—and bit your lips. If he opened just a couple more buttons, his smooth chest would be accessible to your touch. You watched his fingers move over the keys as he punched in some command and you sucked in a breath. Fuck. His hands were so beautiful. All it would take was a few minutes of setting up everything and you could be playing out your fantasy in no time.

You don’t know whether you made a sound or if it was something else, but Brian suddenly raised his head to fix his gaze on you and a knowing look came on his face. What the hell was he doing so far away anyways? His flight had landed late and he’d barely breezed in through the gallery doors just as they were opening for the public viewing, and because of that, you hadn’t had the chance to fuck before the opening. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a most inhuman atrocity, especially after a five weeks long deprivation—to have Brian Kinney so near and to not be able to touch him. It was too fucking much to take. You suddenly needed to touch him, badly, and from the twinkle in his eyes, you could tell Brian knew it too.

For a fleeting second, you thought you might reach over and pull open the dresser drawer and take the appendages out but then thought it was kind of early to startle him. It was much better to draw it out, take it slowly, and reel him in slowly and steadily. So you opted to seductively blink your eyes at him instead as you gripped the hem of your t-shirt. "Isn’t there something you’re missing, Mr. Kinney?" you asked as you smiled enticingly, and started to ease the shirt up your body, watching his eyebrows shoot up millimeter by millimeter as your hands crept up. "Sitting there, so far away, with your laptop," you said huskily, as Brian’s grin slowly widened with the t-shirt making its progress up your torso, "when you could be here, in bed with me." With a jerk you pulled the shirt off your body and started to kick the duvet off your legs just as--

"Justin!" Your mother walked into the open doorway of your bedroom and stared at you. "Would you please get out of the bed already and have breakfast at least?"

You yanked the duvet back up your body as you stared at you mother in shock. "Mom!" Shit. What was she doing here?

She frowned. "Don’t tell me you forgot our flight is at four. And Molly insists you promised to take her to the Natural History Museum’s Ancient Cultures exhibit. You barely have twenty minutes to get ready."

Shit. You forgot Mom and Molly were staying with you. Shit. Of course they were staying with you. Where else would they stay? Your eyes darted to Brian’s face and you flushed when you saw the familiar smirk now spread over his entire face, as he silently, but surely, laughed his ass off at you. Fucker. He knew they were there and he didn’t even tell you. You almost fucking stripped in front of your mother.

"She’s also under the delusion that you’re going to buy her the tickets for the Opus concert on Sunday." Your mother was still scowling. "Why would you promise her that, Justin?"

"But Mom, I never told her anything of the sort." you said, feeling your brows furrow. Molly couldn’t possibly be staying here a day longer. You had things to do.

"Why, Sunshine, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the fine details of your weekend’s plans with you mom and sis." Brian drawled, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

Shut up, you wanted to hiss. But your mom spoke first.

"Of course, she’s not staying for the concert." She looked between the two of you and you breathed a sigh of relief. "She has to get ready for her ACT which is on Wednesday so she’s going back today." Thank God for that. "But you are still taking her to the museum before the flight."

"Well, better get ready then." Brian grinned. "No time to waste."

"Listen to him." Your mother smiled warmly at your lover, giving him her most motherly look, and you wondered at the irony of your mom finally succumbing to the charms of Brian Kinney. "I’m sorry, Brian," she continued. "I know Molly has been picking your brain since she woke up this morning but she’d wanted to talk about college to someone who could give her some advise, and every time she has these discussions with her father or me, it ends up in an argument." Then she gave you a look. "And don’t even talk about Justin. They have the biggest fights. They can never agree on anything." And then she smiled. "But you’re so patient with her. I can almost see why Justin kept coming back to you."

You felt your teeth grit at the smug look on Brian’s face. Oh yeah, sure, Brian was an angel. You were the bad guy here. You watched your mom turn to leave, but just before she moved away, she paused in the doorway and gave you a strange look. "You’re half naked already, Justin, better hop into the shower and complete the job."

And with that, she was gone, leaving you with your mouth dropped open and Brian sitting in the chair chuckling at you. You threw off the covers and jumped off the bed, your hackles raised.

"You were not even going to warn me," you hissed at him.

He smiled unrepentantly. "This is your home, Sunshine. You were the one who invited them to stay here. How was I to know you would conveniently forget?"

"Don’t call me Sunshine." You pouted at him.

He raised a nonchalant brow. "That is your name."

"That’s not my name." You glared at him.

"It isn’t?" He shrugged in mock-surprise. "I’m sorry, this was the name I was told when I first found you wandering the lonely dark streets in your wayward teen years. I don’t know any better."

"Fuck you." You grumbled.

"Yeah, you wish." He laughed irritatingly.

With a huff, you turned away from his smirking face and stalked to the bathroom, intent on slamming the door shut on his face. But just as you were about to step inside, your shoulder was grabbed and your body spun around and there was Brian pushing you against the wall, his body aligning against yours as he plunged his tongue down your throat. With a half gasp, half moan, you found your arms going around his, as whatever anger had been there, stupidly unjustified as it was, melted out of your skin as you lost yourself in the taste of his mouth—his lips soft, his teeth sharp, his scent a mixture of mint and coffee and cigarettes. You thrust your groin against him and felt his own cock harden through the clothes, heard him growl as his tongue lapped at your lips hungrily. "Fuck, I missed you," you mumbled against his lips and felt his breath jerk out of his mouth as he laughed.

"Yeah, me too, Sunshine..." He kissed the corners of your mouth, and then slowly, reluctantly, pulled away from you. "Come on, we don’t have time for this."

"You sure you don’t want to join me?" You waggled your brows suggestively but he shook his head.

"I told you, no time." He swatted your ass and pushed you into the bathroom. "Go get ready. The sooner you can get this over with, the sooner we can continue our extracurricular activities."

He had a point, so with a sigh of resignation, you decided to follow his advice and stepped inside the bathroom. By the time you’d taken the shower, finished your morning routines, and had stepped out finally dressed into the living room, Molly was waiting at the door, her arms crossed on her chest and her foot tapping impatiently on the floor with barely concealed annoyance. Ignoring her, you went straight for the coffee pot and waved off your mother’s offers of toast and scrambled eggs. Brian was on the phone with Michael, making plans for the afternoon, and you knew he’d be occupied while you were babysitting your eighteen year old sister.

Well, that was fine, you figured. Mom and Molly would be gone by four and then you had a few more hours to kill before heading over to the gallery and you could think of a few fabulous ways they could be killed that involved a lot of nakedness and beautiful horny boyfriends.

The American Museum of Natural History was located on Central Park West at 79th Street and for the past two weeks had been running an exhibit on the Rise and Fall of the Incas. When you’d mentioned it to Molly on one of your late night chat sessions, she’d been ecstatic and had shown interest in visiting it. Perhaps you were feeling particularly mellow that night, but you promised to take her to attend if she came for the show. You have no idea how you forgot that promise until you woke up this morning. You’d booked the passes for the visit the moment you got her affirmation on the show’s attendance, so it wasn’t like you had any intentions of not honoring your promise.

You had a typical love-hate relationship with your sister. She was a completely spoiled brat and got on your last fucking nerves and the two of you always managed to get into verbal brawls every time you got together. But then you were twenty-six years old and you were still a spoiled brat, so that was no reason to hold it against her. You knew you loved her to death even if you didn’t get to see her that often. She was in a tenable situation when it came to maintaining her relationship with you, because she did spend a lot of time with Craig. On that topic, the two of you tended to walk on eggshells around each other.

Still, you were glad she’d come for the show. You realized your forcing her to make the promise to come was a bribe in answer to the promise of the museum visit, but you were okay with that. Sometimes, a brother had to do what a brother had to do.

The Inca exhibit turned out to be a fun outing and lasted for more than an hour. By the time the two of you came out of the museum, it was half past two and time for your mother and Molly to get to the airport. You grabbed a quick lunch from the deli across the street and went to pick up your mother and Molly’s luggage. You called Brian and found out he and Ben had been forcibly dragged to some comic show in the Bronx. He probably wouldn’t get back from there until at least four o’clock as he also had to drop Michael and Ben at the hotel. Their flight was at five-thirty. You made a stop at your favorite bakers to grab a few essentials on your way home.

By the time you came back from dropping Molly and Mom to the airport, it was four thirty and Brian was nowhere to be seen. You called his cell but got an engaged tone, so you started straightening things around the apartment. If you were going to have Brian all to yourself tonight, then it was imperative that everything was planned out and executed perfectly. You went through your kitchen cabinets and took out the necessary items as you got everything ready. Then you put it all away in the fridge and went to the bedroom to organize everything there. By the time all your tasks were done, it was after five and Brian was still not back. You dialed his number again and this time, he answered the phone.

"Where the hell are you?" you asked him.

"Fucking Mikey," he grumbled. "We got too late coming back from the comic shit and I had to go all the way to the airport to drop him and Zen Ben off. Now I’m stuck in traffic."

"I just came back from the airport an hour ago and the traffic was fine then." You huffed. "How come you’re the one who’s stuck in traffic?"

"Oh, I don’t know," he drawled, his tone sarcastic. "I do have the knack for attracting huge worshipful crowds congregating around my nine-inch cock. How the fuck should I know?"

"I have to get to the gallery in an hour." You sniffed. "We haven’t even fucked once since you arrived, Brian."

"I know, twat," he snorted. "I can’t believe it myself."

You frowned into the phone. "I almost suspect you’re doing this on purpose."

"Of course, I am." He said mock-seriously. "You know how much I love to deprive myself of cock."

You sighed. "At least try to get to the gallery on time."

"Your wish is my command, Captain!" he intoned pleasantly before turning off the call.

You watched the phone in your hand and smiled. If only he knew, you snorted.

Of course, Brian repeated yesterday’s performance and barely breezed through as the gallery doors opened for public again. He greeted you with a lingering kiss and promised tonight would be better—he would not be letting you fall asleep over your food this time.

The crowd was easier to handle this night. There wasn’t the pressure that was associated with opening nights and the media presence was much less than you’d dreaded. Five more of your paintings got sold by the first hour was over, the earnings being in the higher quadruple digits and you knew you were going to be comfortable for the next few months at least.

True to his word, at exactly eight-fifteen pm, Brian came to stand next to you as you were talking to a gallery patron and when you said goodbye to her, he linked his arm through yours and whispered the destination of a restaurant he’d made bookings for the two of you for dinner.

Another limousine ride. Another five-star restaurant. This one French with a vaulted ceiling framework, elegant décor, friendly staff and a contemporary French cuisine. You were never good with French menus so Brian helped you pick the dishes and wine. He mentioned the to-die-for dessert menu this place had but you only shook your head at him.

"No dessert here," you said.

He looked surprised. "Are you feeling okay, Sunshine?"

You smiled. Brian knew how big a fan you were of dessert. He was always complaining that you ate like a pig but didn’t gain an ounce. You always told him these were the blessings of youth. "I’m fine," you told him.

"Then, how come?" He stared at you.

You locked your eyes with his and said slowly. "I have other plans for dessert."

You watched as his right brow went up at this as he looked at you closely. Then a smile broke on his face as your meaning became clear to him. "Ah." He grinned. "I see."

The food was indeed wonderful and you enjoyed every bite of it. By the time it was finished, and Brian was calling the waiter for the check, it was after ten. As the two of you were putting on your jackets, Brian whispered in your ear.

"Wanna take a trip to the men’s room? Before hitting the road?"

You grinned at him. "Not right now."

He looked at you strangely. "What’s the matter? Not taking many chances tonight, are you?"

You looked into his eyes, keeping your face straight. "I just want you to conserve your energy for what I have in store for you, old man."

His eyes twinkled at your words and then he demanded haughtily, "What did you say?" as he reached out and pinched your ass hard.

"Ow," you hissed. "You’ll pay for this."

"I will?" He looked astonished. "What about you?"

"What about me?" You huffed. "You’ve got me dangling over the edge of horniness since last night with no reprieve. Seems like it’s time for you to pay up."

He smirked as he threw his arms around your shoulder and led you out of the restaurant. "You want to be punished, do you?"

You laughed. "In your dreams."

The ride back home was playful and full of innuendo as the two of you stretched out your legs, laid back against the plush leather seats and made out like horny teenagers. You felt your senses thrumming with the knowledge of what was coming up, and with the added acknowledgment that Brian had no clue what you’d planned. If any of this had even the tiniest chance of working out, this was how it had to be. Things like these could not be shared with Brian and then be expected to let happen. They had to be inserted subtly into the scheme of things. Slowly and carefully.

With this realization, you felt you had to cool things down a bit once you got home. There was no point in either or both of you reaching supernova level when there was so much more potential fun to be had. So that’s what you did when the limo dropped you to your apartment. You lead Brian up the stairs, got him inside and then told him to kick back and relax for a little while. He stared at you curiously because undoubtedly, he’d been expecting a full-throttled attack the moment the door had closed behind you. So you poured him a drink, led him to the couch in front of the TV and sat him down.

Then you got busy taking things out of the fridge, and settling everything in the bedroom. Within a few minutes, everything was set up, so you picked up the plate with the large piece of chocolate cake and went to Brian, who’d been quietly sipping his drink and listening to you puttering around the apartment.

You reached behind the couch and leaned over, slipping your arms around his neck.

"What’s up?" He rested his head into the crook of your neck.

"It’s dessert time," you whispered as you kissed the side of his face while running your hands down his body. With a sigh, he turned around in his seat and took you in his arms as he kissed you back slowly. You kissed his neck and breathed in his familiar scent, wrapping your arms around his back as you contemplated the situation.

Brian was such an ultimate top. He didn’t find it easy to give up control, whether it was sexual or otherwise. He’d always been this way since the first time you’d met him. But the past nearly ten years of loving him had brought you the knowledge that most of the times when you’d tried and failed to get him to give up control was because you’d pushed too hard. With Brian, you had to be subtle. He didn’t need words to communicate when actions could do a better job. You’d realized that you could get him to do just about anything you wanted if you gave him the right signals and used as few words as possible. As a rule, he very rarely bottomed—which was fine with you since you loved to be fucked by him. But you’d also gotten him to give up that control for you a few times and you knew he’d enjoyed that. That was why you knew it was imperative you take this slowly and matter-of-factly and not let him bolt.

Slow and steady. That was the way this game had to be played. And won.

He must’ve sensed the unspoken static running through your head because he suddenly pulled back from your kiss and looked closely at you. "Why all the frantic, jittery energy, Sunshine?" He raised a brow. "What’s up your sleeve?"

You looked into his eyes. "It’s not my sleeve I’m frantic about."

He laughed. "That I can easily make out."

"Make out," you murmured as you kissed his lips again. "Mmm, yeah. That’s a good idea."

You resumed kissing him again and he eagerly responded, wrapping his hand around your neck to better align his lips against yours. Still kissing, you got up and pulled him up from the chair and letting your tongue play out with his, you walked him backwards towards the bedroom, all the while keeping your hands wrapped tightly around him.

When you reached your bedroom, you paused in your kisses to hover at the dresser next to the doorway on top of which you’d left exhibit A—which you picked up and dangled in front of Brian’s face.

"Ahh." He grinned. "Harboring new kinks I see." He took the ankle restraint from your hand. "Now I know why you’ve been so worked up all day."

You smirked. "You have no idea."

"Hmm. Nice." He rubbed the soft leather strap and looked at you. "But isn’t this an incomplete ensemble?"

"Look behind you." You pointed to the bed.

He turned his head and noticed the leather handcuffs attached to the headboards and chuckled.

"Ahhh. Cuffed up and ready to rock." He laughed. "Impressive."

You kissed his chin. "I’m glad you approve." You opened a drawer and took out the smooth black butt plug and handed it to him.

"I see you’ve been busy, Sunshine." Brian turned the plug around in his hand. He looked up at you, his tongue pushed in his cheek. "This can be arranged."

"Good." You laughed. "Because I’d really, really like to see it arranged nicely."

"You would, huh?" he grinned. "Then how about we--"

"But we must not forget the cake," you interrupted.

He squinted his eyes at you. "You want to eat now?"

"Mmm Hmm."

He frowned. "But I thought you wanted to--"

"—eat it off your beaooooootiful body." You broke in the middle again. Then with a suggestive leer, you turned around and walked back into the living room. You could feel Brian’s eyes burning a hole in your head.

"Where are you going?"

"To get dessert."

"You’re seriously going to eat." He sounded incredulous and you couldn’t blame him. When the choice was between eating dessert or eating Brian, the dessert always lost. But then again, he had no idea what you’d planned.

You picked up the abandoned plate of chocolate cake and returned to the bedroom. "With your help."

"I’m not having any of that." He looked defiant. "You know I don’t eat carbs after seven."

"Sure you do." You grinned. "You just took me out for dinner. We had carbs there. You even ordered the pasta."

"That’s different." He watched as you picked up the fork, dug it into the creamy icing, broke one piece of the cake, and took the forkful into your mouth. "It was an occasion---"

"This is an occasion---" you said, chewing the delicious cake, the sweet cream and chocolate sauce melting inside your mouth. You sighed blissfully.

He looked dubious. "What’s the occasion?"

"You’ll find out soon." You smiled as you shoveled another forkful into your mouth.

"I want to know now." His voice inflection has suddenly changed. He’d realized there was something else at work here.

"You ask too many questions." You laughed.

His eyebrow shot up. "Now, that’s a new one."

You offered him a forkful but he shook his head. "Come on." He continued shaking his head. "Just one bite.’

"Justin." He sounded impatient.

"Come on." You implored.

He huffed. "No, I don’t want---"

So you put the fork in your mouth instead. And then pressed your chocolate-coated lips to his, pushing your tongue inside his mouth. "Mmm, sweet," you murmured as you pulled his shirttails out of his pants and slipped your hands inside. His skin was warm to your touch as your fingers slid up his back and you felt him shudder as you raked your teeth against the underside of his chin. With a groan, he gripped your shoulders in an attempt to find balance on his suddenly shaky legs. You took advantage of this and quickly walked him back the few remaining steps until the back of his legs were touching the bed frame. Your mouth on his throat, your tongue laving his skin as your hands stroked the soft skin of his back, you pushed him back until he tipped over and went sprawling down on the bed. You wasted no time in climbing on top of him and before he could get his bearings, you were settled over his body and kissing him soundly again.

"I like your plan, Sunshine." He chuckled as his fingers wrapped around your hair and he kissed you back heatedly, sweet pouty kisses with lots of tongue that made you moan out aloud.

You suddenly needed to feel skin and sat up and quickly pulled your shirt off. "Too many clothes," you explained as you unbuttoned and pulled his shirt off as well, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the chair behind you. He gripped your arms and made to roll you over but you fastened your mouth to his lips, kissing him hard, and pushed him back down. "Stay like this," you instructed. "I have something for you." With a groan, he let himself fall back on the bed again and then laid there, watching you through hooded eyes as you stood up and first stripped out of your own pants and then unbuckled his trousers and swiftly pulled them off along with his underwear.

Your eyes roamed over his beautiful, golden skin, as he stretched out on the silk sheets you’d chosen earlier with a panther-like, loose-limbed grace, looking utterly decadent and dangerous. His cock, long and thick with need, rose up in a curving half mast from his groin and the sight of it made your mouth water. You licked your lips as you stepped around the bed to reach the covered trays you’d arranged there earlier, mindful of his sharp eyes following your every move. You took off the opaque plastic sheet and settled the tray closer to the bed and then picked up the tall flute-like porcelain container you’d filled earlier during your preparations. You climbed over the bed and him again, sitting up so that your legs were outside his thighs and you were facing him, resting your thighs against his—the porcelain flute held in your right hand.

He looked at you quizzically, his breathing hitching a bit as you ran your free hand over his stomach and chest, tweaking his nipples, softly rubbing his skin, and keeping your eyes locked with his, you whispered: "This is course one," as you dipped the container and poured the melted chocolate between the ripped muscles of his chest and abs.

You felt him flinch a little as the cool chocolate made contact with his skin, his hands rising in startled query, but then your lips were on his stomach, your tongue slowly licking the chocolate off his skin as you made your way up his chest and he let his hands fall back with a sigh. "Justin, what are you---" he groaned but instead of answering him, you continued sucking the sweet chocolate from his skin, licking his nipples, your teeth nipping the small buds tenderly as your hands roamed his body. "Fuck," he sighed, slowly grounding his hips against you as you once again pulled back to pour from the flute, this time in the dip of his throat. Your lips chased the thick sauce as it dripped from his neck down to the cool sheets, your tongue lapping at it eagerly. "The sheets," he gasped, "they’ll get ruined."

"Doesn’t matter," you told him as you smeared your lips with the chocolate and then reached up to offer them to him for a taste. He kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushing into your mouth, roving over your gums and teeth as he cleaned your lips and mouth of all traces of the chocolate sauce. His arms wrapped around your body, and his hands gripped your hips tightly as he rutted against you, moaning loudly, his cock poking you hard in the stomach. Fuck. You had to slow this down before it ended all too soon. It wasn’t time yet.

So you pulled back and reached for the tray again, replacing the empty flute in your hand with another one. "Relax, Brian," you murmured slowly rubbing his thigh, as you shifted your left knee between his, urging him to widen his legs for you without actually asking. You heartbeat quickened as he growled but wordlessly opened his legs, watching you as you poured the sweet cream cheese sauce in a straight line from his calves to his thighs—first one leg then the other.

"What the fuck are you doing, Sunshine?" He demanded as you began the same process on his legs, his head falling back on the sheets again. With kisses and bites you sucked the sweet cream cheese off his skin, your hand gripping his ankle as you guided it towards the corner of the bed where you’d fixed the ankle restraint earlier. You did the same with the other ankle and then picked up the flute and emptied it over his groin. "Christ! Fuck!" he groaned as you dipped your head down and kisses the head of his throbbing cock. "Justin---" he moaned and you could feel tremors running over his skin as you used only your mouth and lips and tongue to tease his cock, humming against his groin, the taste of cream cheese mingled with his sweet-salty pre-cum like the most delicious ambrosia you’d ever tasted. Slow down, you told yourself as you left one last sucking kiss to your most favorite cock in the world and pulled back up.

You replaced the second flute with a new one and reached over his chest and neck again, your own breath shaky, your heart galloping inside your chest. "Justin, what the fuck!" he groaned as you poured the cool maple syrup over his chest and shoulders and neck, the thin fluid dripping onto the sheets messily.

"Just one last round," you told him as you reached down and pressed sucking kisses to his shoulders and neck, as you felt him grinding his cock against your body. The sweet, sticky syrup clung to your lips and cheek and you reached up to press them to his face, groaning as he licked them off with slow cat-like strokes.

"Fuck, Sunshine---" he grounded as you continued kissing his mouth, plunging your tongue down his throat just as you gripped both his arms and pulled them up over his head. You kept a steady rhythm over his groin, grinding your cock against his, as you gripped his wrists in both hands and guided them to their designated spots. In the heat of the moment, he didn’t realize what was happening at first, not while you slipped the restraints around both his wrists. It wasn’t until you’d tightened both the belts did he freeze in his rutting motion, as he suddenly realized something was amiss. Before he could react, you’d reached back to his legs and done the same to the restraints you’d slipped around his ankles earlier.

"What the fuck?" Brian watched you dumbfounded, as he laid there spread-eagled on your bed, his arms and legs tied with the softest leather restraints you could find online. "What the fuck is going on, Justin?"

You smiled satisfyingly at your handiwork. "You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?"

He glared at you. "Untie me."

"What?" You stared at him as you picked up the smooth black butt plug and showed it to him. "We haven’t even tried it yet."

"Untie me fucking now," he growled, his nostrils flaring, as he tried to wrench his arms away from the restraints, only resulting in tightening the bonds even more securely. "I said fucking untie me!" He huffed, as he struggled against the bonds for a few more moments, growling and spitting in rage. You looked into his smoldering hazel gaze and saw a challenge there. Your eyes went down to his groin and you felt your stomach clench. His cock was still hard, was in fact harder than it had been a minute ago. He was aroused by this. Fuck yes, he was.

You don’t really mean that, Brian—you wanted to say. You want this, as much as I want to do this to you—you thought of uttering. But you pressed your lips together and stayed quiet.

Nope. You were not going to answer him. If you answered him, you were pretty damned sure you would say something which would not jive with him emotionally and that’d only give you, and him, trouble later on. Words gave you trouble. Actions told the truth louder than verbal entreaties ever did.

So you picked up a fresh flute and keeping your eyes locked with his, poured the whipped cream mixture over his body, the thin liquid trickling between his spread thighs, running between his strong leg muscles. "Unfuckingtie me, Justin!" he snarled as you picked up the butt plug and keeping it in front of his face, poured the whipped cream over its length. Then staying in his sight, you took the narrow end of the butt plug in your mouth and sucked it, letting your mouth open widely as your lips closed around the wide middle, and you slowly rocked the plug in and out of your mouth. You watched Brian’s eyes glaze over as with a groan he threw his head back and undulated his hips against yours. "Fucking untie me!" he hissed.

As an answer, you pulled back to sit between his legs and grabbed a soft firm pillow from the bed. You slipped your hands under his thighs and pulled his legs up a bit as you slipped the pillow under his hips.

"If you’d wanted to fuck me, Sunshine you didn’t have to fucking tie me up," he snapped. "All you had to do was ask."

Which was a fucking joke, you wanted to tell him. If you’d asked him, he would’ve said no. That’s how it always worked. You didn’t ask Brian Kinney if you wanted to fuck him. You just did it. Similarly, you didn’t ask Brian Kinney if you could tie him up and play a leather restraint and dildo fantasy on his beautiful body. You just fucking did it.

So you stayed quiet and picked up the flute again. "Jesus, FUCK!" he groaned as you poured the sweet cream between his legs, watching as it ran from his throbbing cock down to his perineum to his small puckered hole. You slid back on the bed between his wide open legs and reached down with you hand winding around his right thigh as you kissed his cock once more, lapped at the sweet cream sauce and sucked at the large cockhead—as he cried out in helpless pleasure. You wrapped your lips around Brian’s cock and slid them sideways, kissing and licking as you reached his balls and there you opened your mouth wider and sucked each ball into your mouth—one after the other. "Fuck," he groaned, as your tongue lapped at his the sensitive space between his balls and his hole as it zeroed in on its target, guiding spit and cream and lingering kisses towards the twitching muscle, before spearing the tight opening with its tip—making him jerk up in reaction.

You hummed as you slipped your hands under his butt as your lips and tongue teased the muscle to open up to their ministrations. Brian moaned loudly as your tongue lapped at the tight entrance, carefully breaching the muscle as it opened—his sighs and groans filling the room. You kissed and licked and slowly fucked his hole with your tongue, as your hands gripped his quivering limbs. With your left hand, you picked up the butt plug, doused it in the cream sauce, ran your tongue over it thoroughly to make it wet, and then pushed it against his hole. He jerked and moaned as with spit and cream, you lubricated his opening and gently slipped the butt plug inside. He cried as you pushed it in and out a few times before sliding it in up to the hilt.

You kissed his ass cheeks, then the inside of his thighs, and then his stomach as you slid up his body, kissing and sucking the mixture of the cream cheese and maple syrup and whipped cream slathered over his body. "You’re so fucking beautiful, Brian," you moaned as you ran your hands up his silky skin, your teeth raking over his muscles, your lips puckering over his ribs and around his nipples.

Grounding you own aching cock over his smooth belly skin, you glided up his body until you were hovering over his face where you found his eyes closed and his mouth open as he panted shallow breaths. You dipped your head and pressed a kiss to his chin and watched as his eyes opened and they were so fucking green, so fucking beautiful, that you had to kiss his cheek and then his nose and then his eyelids and brows until you were raining kisses all over his face. "Brian," you murmured as you slid your fingers in his soft silky hair. "Brian," you sighed as you kissed his neck and his shoulders and his arms and his chest and then back up his neck as you lapped at his adam’s apple and scraped your teeth against his chin.

He groaned your name as your hands reached down to grab the butt plug’s handle again, sliding it out and back a few times, watching as he threw his head back and cried out. You reached across to the condoms and lube hidden under the pillows, tore one open and quickly slid it on your aching cock. You poured the lube generously over your sheathed cock, grabbed the butt plug and pulled it out and discarded it. "Justin," he moaned as you reached back to loosen one of the ankle restraints and pulled his left leg up to align your cock against his body. You watched him open his eyes and try to focus his gaze on yours as you slipped your hands under his hips. You pushed on his left leg until it was flat against his chest and slowly pushed inside his opening. God, he was so fucking tight. You watched him strain against his arm restraints as you pulled out of his hole and then slid back in, going deeper this time. You did it a few times, as his tight muscles squeezed your shaft deliciously until you’d found your rhythm and that was when you started to fuck him harder, as he let his head fall back on pillow again.

"Justin," he moaned as you picked up speed, ramming in and out of him with abandon, reaching down to kiss his face again, your lips joining his as your tongues dueled together in a mating dance of their own—teeth and spit and lips tangling together in a heated sexual frenzy.

"God, Brian," you moaned as you ran your hands over his bound arms. You pressed your lips against his cheeks and neck, as your hips rammed against his body, and your strokes went deeper inside him with every thrust. You’d never felt so close to him before. Never felt so close to anyone before. You sighed as you felt his tongue laving the side of your neck and turned your head to meet it in a messy teeth-gnashing kiss. "Brian," you cried out as you gripped his hips and pushed harder into his body, hearing him groan brokenly, his limbs shaking with the exertion.

He’d been so close for such a long time that you knew it wouldn’t take him long to reach his crescendo. You felt it start when his hole clenched around your dick and his body arched back and twisted against the restraints, caught in the throes of orgasm, his mouth opened in a wordless cry. Like a domino effect, the wave crashed over your senses as well and suddenly, you were there too, crying out at the sweet aching heat that slammed into your veins and filled your senses, blinding you with the sudden glaring brightness that burst through your consciousness.

You felt his breathing slow down as his lips moved against yours. You heard him whisper, "...love you," and thought you would weep.

And then everything was blissfully black.

**

Sometime in the night, you woke up to find yourself wrapped around Brian’s body, which was still bound in restraints as he slept the sleep of the truly blissed out. You hurriedly unhooked the leather clasps from around his limbs and gently rubbed them to let the life back into them. You pushed back his sweaty locks from his face and stared at him for a moment, trying to locate any sign of distress or pain in his features. But everything seemed fine. His face looked relaxed, his brow unlined, his breathing steady.

You kissed his lips softly, wrapped your arms around his body and slept again.

**

 

The TV droned on endlessly on an old movies channel, a long forgotten Western playing on the screen—something neither of you had ever seen before or were inclined to watch this time. You were snuggled up on the couch against Brian, his legs spread out on the table in front, your head on his shoulder, as you shared the bowl of popcorn between the two of you. The apartment had been unusually quiet today, both of you seemingly continuing the tradition from last night of actions versus words.

But it was time to break the silence. You slipped your hand into Brian’s and pulled it in your lap.

"I did it because I knew you wouldn’t have let me do it otherwise." Your words were quiet.

You felt him freeze for a second, his hand tightening around yours, before feeling him breathe out slowly. "You could’ve asked me."

"Asked what?" You looked at him. "You were ready to take my head off. If you hadn’t been tied up, I don’t think you would’ve let me do this."

He turned him head and looked at you. "How can you even know?" he asked. "You didn’t even try to ask first."

"Brian." You looked into his eyes. "I know you."

He stared at you for a moment and then his lips twitched. "Fucker."

You smiled. "I know you."

He huffed. "Twat."

You grinned as you kissed his chin. "I love you too."

**  
The End


End file.
